


Ink and Lace

by kylar



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon Compliant, Husbands, Lingerie, M/M, Smut, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 16:53:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9194291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylar/pseuds/kylar
Summary: Oikawa gives Iwaizumi a birthday present- two presents- that he'll never forget.





	

Iwaizumi eyes the drink Kuroo slides him with a frown. “I’m going to need something stronger than that,” he mumbles, but downs the dark liquid anyway.

Kuroo looks up from the glass he’s cleaning and across the bar to where Oikawa is out on the dance floor with Matsukawa and Hanamaki. The song thrumming through the speakers is loud, with a deep base and a rhythm perfect for dancing. Especially the way Oikawa is dancing, his whole body rolling and moving with the beat, nearly chest to chest with Hanamaki. They’re both grinning, Oikawa laughing and occasionally biting at his lower lip in the most sensual way. Iwaizumi has never wanted to be Hanamaki more in his entire life. He would go and cut in, but he doesn’t dance. Never once has he stepped out onto a dance floor- with one rather significant exception- and every time they go out, Oikawa does everything he can to try and coax Iwaizumi to join them. This time, that includes nearly grinding against both Hanamaki and Matsukawa.

Kuroo rolls his eyes with a loud and exasperated sigh. “Jesus Christ, Iwaizumi. He likes to dance. And relax,  it’s just Hanamaki. It’s your birthday, dude. Let loose and go dance with him.”

Iwaizumi’s frown only deepens as someone cuts in on Oikawa. Iwaizumi watches, his grip tightening around his glass, as Oikawa hesitates for a moment, his gaze flicking briefly over to Iwaizumi on his bar stool, before nodding to the stranger. They begin to dance, Oikawa a little more reserved now that he’s not with one of his friends, but that doesn’t calm Iwaizumi at all.

“What the hell is he doing? Why would he dance with another man like that?”

A hand is suddenly grabbing at his own free hand clenched into a fist on the bar top. Only then does he tear his gaze from Oikawa to regard Kuroo as he lifts Iwaizumi’s hand into the air, nearly shoving it in Iwaizumi’s face. The gold band sitting snug around Iwaizumi’s ring finger glints in the harsh florescence of the bar.

“For fuck’s sake, Iwaizumi, he’s married to _you._ I’d bet you a month’s salary that he wishes that man were you right now. And if you weren’t such a sour puss he wouldn’t have to dance with other men to try and make you jealous.”

“What?” Iwaizumi stutters.

“How blind are you?” Kuroo exhales. “The entire time he’s been out there, he’s been glancing at you. Like every thirty seconds, I could set my watch by it. It’s kind of pathetic that you haven’t noticed actually, for all the time you’ve spent staring at him.”

The man that had cut in on Oikawa is too close. And as the man’s hand slides lower over Oikawa’s ass, forcing Oikawa to step back and swat the hand away, Iwaizumi lurches to his feet. He quickly downs the shot Kuroo is sliding towards him, then storms onto the dance floor. He puts himself right in between Oikawa and the sleaze that dared to touch him and, despite being shorter than the both of them, pins the man with the most threatening glare he can muster.

“Back the fuck off my husband,” Iwaizumi growls.

The man frowns in confusion, his eyes automatically darting down to their hands and, upon finding the matching gold bands, makes a hasty retreat.

“Well that was rather rude, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa huffs.

“Would you like me to leave so you can find another stranger to grope your ass?” Iwaizumi retorts. He doesn’t mean to be so hard on Oikawa, it just slips out.

“I’m actually hoping you’ll stay and dance with me,” he hums, not seeming at all bothered by Iwaizumi’s snapping tone.

Despite being the one to request it, he is visually shocked when Iwaizumi grabs him by the hips and pulls their bodies together. He’s quick to recover though, wrapping his arms securely around Iwaizumi’s neck and moving his body against Iwaizumi’s, perfectly in time with the music.

“Iwa-chan is finally dancing with me!” Oikawa cheers, his voice light and airy, a tone that sends a buzz down Iwaizumi’s spine. “We haven’t danced together since our wedding. And at our wedding, you were _forced_ to dance with me.”

“I never thought I’d see the day Iwaizumi willingly stepped foot onto a dance floor,” Matsukawa chimes in, his tone teasing.

Iwaizumi shoots him- and Hanamaki who is practically wrapped around Matsukawa- a glare. It doesn’t have the desired effect as both of them merely laugh, but when has it ever? Instead of dwelling on them, he turns his attention back to the man grinding against him. He is rather hard to ignore after all.

Of course the alcohol in his system helps, but after a few minutes, Iwaizumi finds himself loosening up. He’s still not entirely comfortable out on the dance floor with so many people around him, but it’s easy to forget where he is and what he’s doing with the way that Oikawa is dancing with him. All those reserves he held while dancing with the stranger disappear, and it’s not until this moment right here that he realizes Oikawa had even had reserves when dancing with Hanamaki. Oikawa lets loose on Iwaizumi, his hips moving and grinding in a way that’s driving Iwaizumi crazy, without the completely lustful look in his eyes to compound it. When Oikawa takes his lower lip between his teeth again, any restraint Iwaizumi may have had snaps. He grabs at the back of Oikawa’s neck, almost too roughly, and pulls him down for a searing kiss.

Their tongues are in each other’s mouths, Oikawa’s hands up Iwaizumi’s shirt, and he’s making noises in the back of his throat that only Iwaizumi can hear. And they’re driving him crazy. Iwaizumi’s hands make their way down Oikawa’s chest to his waist, where they slip under the hem of Oikawa’s shirt. He’s surprised though when his fingers find a rough material against Oikawa’s stomach, and he hesitates.

Oikawa pulls back from their kiss and Iwaizumi looks down as he lifts Oikawa’s shirt just enough to see the distinctive lines of a black corset. He quickly lowers Oikawa’s shirt before anyone else sees, a heat growing in his cheeks.

Oikawa is all seductive smirks as he leans in to whisper in Iwaizumi’s ear, “Wait until you see what I’ve got on underneath these pants.”

Iwaizumi’s pants are suddenly much too tight, and he swallows hard as he grabs Oikawa’s wrists and tugs him off the dance floor. Oikawa starts to protest, but Iwaizumi quickly cuts him off.

“We’re going home,” he says, and Oikawa’s protests instantly give way to a satisfied grin.

Iwaizumi pulls a few bills out of his wallet to pay for their drinks, but Kuroo waves him off with a smirk that Iwaizumi wishes he could slap off his face. “Happy birthday, Iwaizumi. Have fun,” he teases.

Iwaizumi doesn’t grace Kuroo with a response, instead continuing out of the bar with Oikawa in tow so they can catch the next train home. The train ride is torturous, especially when considering that Oikawa takes every opportunity he can get to press against Iwaizumi. At every turn, every jolt, every bump of the train, and it’s driving Iwaizumi crazy. By the time they reach their apartment, Iwaizumi is ready to drag Oikawa into their bedroom and have his way with him.

Oikawa has other plans though. Once they fumble through the front door and kick it shut behind them, Oikawa’s lips find Iwaizumi’s in a heated kiss, but he doesn’t linger. He leaves Iwaizumi standing in the entry way as he takes a few steps backwards. His fingers tease at the hem of his shirt, slipping beneath to play across what Iwaizumi knows is there.

Slowly, oh so slowly, he lifts the shirt up, revealing more and more of the black, lacy corset underneath. After a long, teasing moment, the shirt finally comes off to be thrown to the side. Iwaizumi can’t be entirely sure where it lands, his eyes not leaving Oikawa’s little show. Iwaizumi wants to follow as Oikawa continues to back towards their bedroom, his hands moving sensually down his stomach and over his hips, but Iwaizumi is rooted to the spot. Oikawa’s movements are mesmerizing, the way his hips sway, the way his hands tease at the laces, the way his tongue licks at his upper lip. Iwaizumi can feel heat starting to pool in his cheeks- and in other places- and he’s not sure how much more of this show he can take.

But then Oikawa reaches the door to their bedroom and, with a wink, he crooks a finger at Iwaizumi still standing in the entryway staring like a love struck teenager. That’s all the invitation Iwaizumi needs, and he’s quickly kicking off his shoes and following his husband into their bedroom. It’s all he can do to not throw Oikawa down on their bed and ravage him.

Their lips meet in a searing, desperate kiss. Oikawa’s tongue traces across Iwaizumi’ lower lip and Iwaizumi opens up to him. The small, needy noises Oikawa makes send shivers down Iwaizumi’s spine as he greedily eats them up. He can’t keep his hands off Oikawa, his fingers caressing across the tight fabric of the corset, feeling the way it hugs Oikawa’s body.

“So,” Iwaizumi breathes against Oikawa’s lips when they part for breath, “when did you get this?” He emphasizes the question with a tug on the crisscrossing laces across the front.

“Last week. I went with Koushi-chan. His and Dai-chan’s anniversary is coming up, as you know, and we had very naughty ideas for gifts,” he smirks with a wink.

“I can see that. Do I get to see the rest of it?” Iwaizumi questions, pulling at the waistline of Oikawa’s pants.

“Eager are we?” Oikawa hums, but doesn’t stop Iwaizumi as he unbuttons Oikawa’s pants and starts to push them down his long legs.

Iwaizumi suddenly forgets how to breathe as matching lacy black underwear are revealed. They seem impossibly small, yet cradle Oikawa perfectly. Iwaizumi never considered himself a panty guy, but now he’s forced to rethink that as he’s unable to tear his eyes from his husband’s choice of underwear.

Iwaizumi continues to pull off Oikawa’s pants and, unfortunately for Iwaizumi’s heart, discovers that Oikawa has more surprises up his sleeve- or rather down his pants. Thin silk straps attached to Oikawa’s underwear lead a short ways down his thighs, attached at the other end to a pair of black stockings that cover Oikawa’s legs nearly all the way up to his crotch. At this point, as Oikawa kicks the rest of the way out of his pants, Iwaizumi is sure that his goal tonight was to kill Iwaizumi.

“You like it, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa sings.

Lying back on their bed, Oikawa is now only dressed in lacy black lingerie, the entirety of his ‘gift’ laid bare before Iwaizumi. It’s so much to take in, so much lace hugging so much of Oikawa’s figure, but that doesn’t stop Iwaizumi from trying. Every article of clothing, every piece of lingerie, it all accentuates every curve of his body. His toned thighs, the beautiful curve of his hips, his tight stomach…. He is beautiful, stunning, and when Iwaizumi finally manages to meet Oikawa’s eyes, all air leaves his lungs in a needy exhale. How did he ever get so lucky?

“To say that I like it would be an understatement,” Iwaizumi answers breathily, remembering Oikawa’s question.

“Oh good,” Oikawa hums, reaching up to slip his hands beneath Iwaizumi’s shirt and push it up to his shoulders. “But you’re wearing too many clothes, Iwa-chan.”

Not one to deny his husband anything, Iwaizumi lets Oikawa pull his shirt off over his head. Oikawa is quick to pop the button of Iwaizumi’s jeans, which had grown uncomfortably tight, and Iwaizumi kicks them off.

Their lips meet, neither of them able to resist much longer. Oikawa’s hands are on Iwaizumi’s chest, the fingers of his right hand ghosting across the tattoo inked over Iwaizumi’s heart. A ‘#1’, underscored to signify the captain’s number, in the teal and white of their old high school. In the background, a green laurel wreath. Oikawa’s fingers have the tattoo memorized, as they trace their way over the ink. Iwaizumi got the tattoo after they graduated, after he finally, _finally_ , worked up the courage to ask Oikawa out on a date. Oikawa cried when he saw it for the first time, and every time it’s bared to him, he traces his fingers over it, as if they’re drawn to the ink.

His fingers don’t linger though, as they work their way up, over Iwaizumi’s shoulders and into his hair. Iwaizumi’s own hands don’t sit idle. He balances himself on his knees, on either side of Oikawa’s hips, and lets his hands run over the tight fabric of the corset. He caresses Oikawa’s sides, runs his hands over his stomach, but as much as he loves the way the corset looks and feels, he’s craving the feel of Oikawa’s skin against his fingertips.

He works his hands underneath Oikawa and finds the laces crisscrossing along his spine. He feels for the ends of the laces and when he finds them, he gives them a pull. The garment loosens immediately and he quickly slips it off. His hands resume their wandering, this time across the softness of Oikawa’s skin. Oikawa hums into their kiss, shivering slightly under Iwaizumi’s delicate touch.

Iwaizumi’s hands continue down to work Oikawa out of the underwear and stockings, but Oikawa’s hands around his wrists stop him.

“Leave those on,” he murmurs, and who is Iwaizumi to say no?

His lips find Oikawa’s again as he reaches into the nightstand, pulling out a small bottle and square of foil. At the pop of the cap, a shiver runs through Oikawa’s entire body, a moan escaping against Iwaizumi’s lips. Iwaizumi liberally coats his fingers, as Oikawa’s knees lift on either side of him. He shifts the barely existent material of Oikawa’s underwear and runs his slick fingers across what he finds beneath.

“Iwa-chan, don’t tease me,” Oikawa practically begs, his voice no more than a breathy whine.

Oikawa’s whine turns into a gasp when Iwaizumi pushes a finger inside him. The noises he makes as he squirms beneath Iwaizumi, as he claws at Iwaizumi’s back and begs for more, is nearly enough to have Iwaizumi releasing right then and there. It doesn’t matter how many years he’s been with Oikawa, how many times they’ve been in this position, with Oikawa making these same noises. Iwaizumi will never get used to them. There will never be a time when they don’t drive him absolutely crazy.

Iwaizumi buries his face in the crook of Oikawa’s neck as he continues to move his finger inside of Oikawa. He bites at the skin there, not hard enough to break the skin or to even leave a mark, just enough to stave off his release and to taste the man beneath him. He tastes of the cologne he puts on every morning, slightly of sweat, and of something that is entirely Oikawa. Iwaizumi’s tongue soon replaces his teeth as he licks a stripe up the side of Oikawa’s neck.

Oikawa is a mewling mess against the sheets. His legs have come up to wrap around Iwaizumi’s waist, pulling him in closer, his hands stopped in their clawing of Iwaizumi’s back to bury in his hair. Oikawa had asked him not to tease, but it’s Iwaizumi now who’s being teased. Every little noise, every tug on his hair, every squeeze of Oikawa’s legs around his waist…. Iwaizumi growls into Oikawa’s neck as he adds another finger.

After what seems like an eternity of this, Oikawa must decide that he’s prepared enough and suddenly flips their positions. Iwaizumi finds his back on the sheets with Oikawa straddling his hips. Oikawa gives him a seductive smirk that by all rights should be illegal, shifting his weight so that he can reach between them and pull off Iwaizumi’s briefs.

“It’s your birthday, Iwa-chan. Just lay back and let me take care of you,” he purrs.

Any response Iwaizumi may have had turns into a gasp as Oikawa’s hand immediately finds his cock, hard to the point of aching. Iwaizumi’s hands fall instinctively to Oikawa’s hips as Oikawa’s hand teases across his length, giving it light strokes, or playing at the slit, as his lips ghost across Iwaizumi’s collar bone and down to the tattoo over his heart.

Iwaizumi is aware of the sound of a cap popping open, but it’s lost in the kisses and hint of tongue tracing its way across his chest. That is, until he feels the roll of thin rubber over his shaft, followed by Oikawa’s hands coating him in lube. Iwaizumi’s breath hitches as he waits for Oikawa’s heat to engulf him. But it doesn’t come.

“You ready, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi meets his playful smirk, his grip tightening on Oikawa’s hips. “Now who’s teasing?”

Oikawa pushes himself upright, his smirk growing. His weight shifts again above Iwaizumi, one hand leaning on Iwaizumi’s chest as the other pushes the lace out of the way so he can line himself up with Iwaizumi’s cock. Iwaizumi’s groan joins Oikawa’s whine as Oikawa lowers himself down onto Iwaizumi, swallowing him inch by slow, agonizing inch. Oikawa isn’t even fully seated on his length before Iwaizumi’s heart is racing, his breath coming out in ragged pants. Oikawa isn’t much better, his other hand having joined his first to claw at Iwaizumi’s chest. His head is thrown back, his short breathes escaping through parted and kiss swollen lips.

“Fuck, Hajime,” he moans when he’s taken all of Iwaizumi inside him. He sits there, still, for a long moment, letting the both of them grow accustomed. But once they do, once Oikawa is comfortable with Iwaizumi’s size, he rolls his hips and Iwaizumi loses every ounce of self control he may have been clinging to.

It doesn’t start off slow. It rarely does with them, Oikawa never having the patience for it. But Iwaizumi knew, long before they ever became intimate, that their sex life would be fast paced, just as every other aspect of Oikawa’s life has ever been. He doesn’t do anything half way. He doesn’t work up to anything. It’s full speed ahead, from the very beginning, with everything he does.

Iwaizumi wouldn’t have it any other way.

From the start, Oikawa picks up at quick pace. His strong thighs, still clad in those tight black stockings, move him effortlessly on top of Iwaizumi. His hands, braced on Iwaizumi’s chest, claw at the skin beneath his fingertips. His moans and whines and cries of Iwaizumi’s name fill the room, alongside the slapping of skin on skin.

Iwaizumi doesn't sit idle as Oikawa rides him, despite Oikawa’s order to sit back and let him take care of him. His hands grip at Oikawa’s hips, knead at his ass, caress the soft skin of his sides and back. His hips lift from the bed to match Oikawa’s pace, to drive deeper into him with each thrust.

Iwaizumi’s hands find Oikawa’s on his chest, weaving his fingers into Oikawa’s. Oikawa's noises grow louder, echoing off the walls of their bedroom, and Iwaizumi pulls him into a deep, tongue delving kiss to muffle the sounds, if only so that they don’t drive him to climax so quickly. Oikawa returns the kiss needily, hungrily. He moans Iwaizumi’s name, over and over again against Iwaizumi’s lips, matching the pace of his thrusts.

And that's all Iwaizumi can take. With a growl, his arms wrap around Oikawa’s waist and he repositions his legs to flip them back over. Oikawa’s back hits the sheets, drawing a gasp from his lips. He starts to protest, but Iwaizumi doesn't give him the chance. His arms hook beneath Oikawa’s knees, lifting his hips from the bed as he drives hard into him at an unrelenting pace.

"I told you-  _fuck, Hajime_... I thought I was going to-  _ah-_ take care of you," Oikawa pants.

Iwaizumi doesn't let up, thrusting hard and deep into Oikawa as he tries to formulate a response. "It's my birthday, and I want to fuck you."

"My Iwa-chan is so eloquent.”

"Shut up," Iwaizumi growls, hitching Oikawa’s legs higher and leaning over him.

Iwaizumi is close, he can feel the heat coiling low in his stomach, begging for release. He knows Oikawa is close too, his sudden lack of intelligible words and the way he's tightening around Iwaizumi’s cock a dead giveaway. Iwaizumi wants to hold off his building release, wants to let this last as long as possible, but he also knows that he's not that in control of himself. Especially not with Oikawa a hot mess beneath him like this.

He reaches between their sweat slicked bodies to pull down his lacy underwear and wrap a hand around Oikawa’s cock, pumping him in time with Iwaizumi’s thrusts. Oikawa’s whines grow louder, his back arching up off the bed. It's only a few strokes before Oikawa is coming hot across his stomach. He tightens, almost painfully, on Iwaizumi’s cock as he rides out his release, and Iwaizumi is pushed over the edge soon after.

The only sound in room is that of their labored breathing as they both come slowly down from their highs. Iwaizumi continues to hold himself up over his husband’s prone body, but his arms are shaking, straining with the effort of holding his own weight. When he’s finally able to move again, he pulls out of Oikawa, causing a shiver to ripple through Oikawa’s body. He drops onto the sheets next to Oikawa with a satisfied sigh, his eyes falling closed.

"Happy birthday, my Iwa-chan," Oikawa purrs as he rolls into Iwaizumi’s side, pillowing his head on Iwaizumi’s chest. His fingers come up to trace idly over Iwaizumi’s tattoo, the touch soft and nearly ticklish. "Did you enjoy your present?"

"Fuck," Iwaizumi breathes. It's the only response he's capable of articulating.

"I'll take that as a yes," Oikawa giggles. Then he sits up, and Iwaizumi misses his warmth but his limbs are too languid to reach up and pull him back down. "But that's not the only present I got you.”

Iwaizumi opens his eyes then and watches as Oikawa lies back down on his back so that he can shimmy out of the underwear and stockings. As the thin black material is dragged down his legs, an array of color is revealed on the outside of his left thigh, covered in a thin sheet of plastic. Iwaizumi’s eyes widen at the sight of a teal and white ‘#4’ inked into his skin, backdropped by a green laurel wreath. It matches exactly Iwaizumi’s own tattoo, with the exception of the number, _his_ number.

“Happy birthday, Iwa-chan! Do you like it?” Oikawa asks, his voice sounding just slightly unsure, in a way that Iwaizumi has never heard before. “I had the lines done yesterday, and this morning I went in to have the colors finished. It was harder than it should’ve been to keep it hidden from you, especially when you got all handsy last night.”

“Is that why you pretended to be sick last night?”

Oikawa gasps. “You knew I was pretending?!”

“Of course I did,” Iwaizumi snorts. “When you’re actually sick, you turn into the biggest drama queen, always whining that you’re dying.”

“I do not!” Oikawa argues, a hand flying to his chest in offense. But then he shakes his head, and that slightly worried expression returns. “Never mind that. You never answered my question, Iwa-chan. Do you like it?”

Iwaizumi doesn’t have to think about the answer. There’s no considering to be done. It’s an immediate response, on the tip of his tongue, and he smiles as he leans in to claim his husband’s lips in a soft kiss.

“I love it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream with me about iwaoi and haikyuu over on tumblr at [bokusaka](http://bokusaka.tumblr.com/)


End file.
